


Love

by notjustmom



Series: Love, Hope and Faith [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Late night chat, mention of Eurus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 05:00:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9419810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: Late night chat, set before Sherlock begins to make trips to Sherrinford, to see if he can reach his sister through music.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scrub456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/gifts).



Thomas Holmes turned on the kitchen light to find Sherlock sitting at the table. He had long ago accepted his middle child's odd habits; he simply sat down in a chair across from Sherlock and waited.

"I wish I could remember her more."

"Why?"

"She told me..." Sherlock paused. "that she taught me how to play? I can't remember, why can't I remember that? She was surprised that I had deleted her to that extent. I just have the feeling that we had a good relationship, I mean, the night she posed as Faith...I got the impression that she liked me, she understood me. There had to be something else besides Victor and the fire. We were -"

"very close, yes, you were the one who understood her the most, but then you met Victor, and she became more isolated and she got lost, I think. She changed."

Sherlock nodded.

"You do know, it wasn't your fault."

"Of course it was. I should have -"

"Son. You were six, she was five. Your mum and I knew, but didn't know, if you know what I mean, and we didn't know what to do, we honestly didn't know what she was capable of. I think if she had been less curious..."

"Curiosity killed the cat?" Sherlock snorted and he rose as the kettle whistled.

"A bit, yes. It's like the scars she has on her wrist. She simply wished to see how the muscles worked, it wasn't self-harm, she just wanted to know, and I believe that. And I think with Victor, she didn't intend for him to drown..."

"She was playing a game, but it went wrong, she thought I would solve her puzzle." Sherlock placed a mug of tea in front of his father and sat down with his own. "She was jealous and angry at me for not finishing the game, but didn't have the tools to deal with it, so she wanted to see if she could burn it out."

"Something like that." His father took a sip of his tea. "After she was, removed, for lack of a better word, you stopped trying to make friends, spent hours practicing, til your fingers were raw. You rarely spoke, until that one case about the boy who drowned..."

"Carl Powers."

"You spent weeks trying to get someone interested, but you were eight years old. By that time, you had long stopped asking after Eurus, the nightmares about Victor had ended, it was as if you had deleted them, like they had never existed. Later, Mycroft told us she had died in a fire, so we just..."

"carried on." Sherlock whispered. "Do you have any photos of her, of me, us? I need some way to rebuild her in here," he pointed to his head. "I remember her in my heart, I need to know who she was before everything went to hell. She needs me, Father, please?"

"John and Rosie need you, too." His father laid a hand over his son's trembling one, and squeezed lightly.

"I have to make this right, or at least not as awful as it is now. Please. Let me try. John understands, he will give me the time I need if he -"

"You know he does, don't you?"

"Yes. That's the point, I need to let her know she is loved too. I know her... she's the reason I am still here. That night, when we had chips, she gave me the case that saved me, saved John. She stopped me from..." He stopped and took a breath and blew it out again. "She told me she thought I was nicer than she thought I'd be...nicer than anyone." 

Sherlock forced himself to meet his father's eyes, and his father might not have been as clever as the rest of his family, but he was by far the wisest. He nodded, and got up from the table. He left the kitchen for a moment, then returned with his wallet. "I never could get rid of this snap." He handed Sherlock a tiny, perfect image of him in position, while his sister was gently keeping his elbow at just the right angle. "I always loved it, it's as if she's..."

"Hugging me." Sherlock nodded. "She loved me."

"Yes, she did, more than anyone or anything else, as much as she was capable of love, she loved you."

"Thank you."

"No, Sherlock, thank you. Stay the night, it would make your mum so happy to give you breakfast in the morning."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but nodded.

"Not the couch this time, there is a proper bed in your room, which you are always welcome to use."

"I know, Poppa, I know." Sherlock stood and wrapped his father in his arms and kissed the top of his head. "I won't stay up too late. I promise."

"Good."

 

Can I come visit Rosie tomorrow? - SH

What am I? Chopped Liver? - JW

I love you. - SH

Love you, too. Noon? - JW

Thank you. I miss you. - SH

I miss you too. - JW


End file.
